Disclaimer: Not BBC, Johnny Capps, Julian Murphy. Arthur and Merlin are soulmates, no one can convince me otherwise.

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Chapter 3

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"Arthur, behind you!"

Arthur pivoted on his right foot as soon as he heard the warning, squatting as he did so and spread out his left leg to send the person attacking from behind him falling from loss of footing. He barely had the time to swing his sword and slash at the person's abdomen, aiming to heavily wound him but not to entirely kill him, when he saw yet another Saxon charging from his side and he had to bring up his sword to hold his blow.

It was supposed to be a safe trip back to Camelot that day. They had sent scouts ahead and they had sent words back that the path they would take would be safe. No one knew they would be crossing this part of the forest. Arthur simply didn't have any idea how these Saxons could possibly know where and when to strike them.

On the other side of the fight, he saw Merlin standing his grounds with a sword rather impressively, considering how clumsy he was to even balance a stack of books on his hands. He was fighting rather uniquely though, sidestepping slopes that came down when stepped by the Saxons and ducking beneath swung axes that miraculously struck his attacker. He wasn't striking with his sword much, but rather leaving the work to the panicked horses which bridles strangely found its way to snake around the feet of the Saxons. Arthur frowned– how is he doing that?

An approaching sound of a galloping horse shook him from his stupor and Arthur had just enough time to parry the blow, sending the rider down with him. The skirmish continued as Arthur took down several more men but then he heard a distant sound of horse hooves– a lot of them, and closing in on them. The Saxons had sent more men.

"Retreat!" Arthur hollered as he pulled out his sword from his opponent, drawing blood with it.

Arrows started to fly around them, and Arthur just had enough time to duck and slide down the nearest sloping ground away from the arrows. It would take less than several seconds before the archers reached them and the slope provided them no more protection. Most of his men had already followed his lead, going to the lower grounds and seizing any horse they could find, but he couldn't see Merlin anywhere.

"Merlin!" he called out amidst the loud cry of the Saxons advancing on them and horses thumping their hooves in a gallop all around him. No reply.

"Retreat!" he shouted. "Leon, lead them south!"

Sir Leon, the left side of his curly hair catching dry leaves as he slid down the sloping ground, pulled himself up. "But, Sire, I'm not leaving you!"

Arthur growled in frustration– the rest of his men were already retreating but they didn't know where to run. He couldn't afford to lose this many men or having a debate with his fellow knight. "Just do as I said!"

But before either of them could say anything, Arthur heard Merlin's familiar shout from the higher grounds. He turned around so quickly his neck hurt, but he didn't feel it, because Merlin was now sliding down the slope, his stomach on the ground, and an arrow was stuck on his shoulder blade.

"Merlin!"

In less than a fraction of a second Arthur was already sprinting to Merlin's side, his right arm snaking under his unwounded shoulder and pulled him to his feet. At the movement, Merlin screamed in pain, followed by him looking like he was trying his best not to convulse, so Arthur had no choice but to pull out the arrow from his shoulder. Right now the arrow was preventing most of the blood from flowing out–to pull it out, the blood loss alone could lead to unconsciousness–but Arthur had seen something like this in his previous fights. The tip of the arrow had been dipped with mild poison– the longer the arrow had contact with the flesh, the more the poison would enter the body. Arthur was just thankful they were facing the Saxons now, considering they still make their arrows without heads, and so pulling it out didn't require any surgical precision.

Leon was already on his horse, approaching them with the only other horse left around them. In no time, the three of them had already fled the battle field, narrowly missing several flying arrows.

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They had been riding for a long time now, to make sure they had shaken off the Saxons, but Merlin hadn't stopped shivering.

They were still riding on the same horse, having no other option, and it was good that Merlin was light enough that their horse hadn't been slowed down when they were running away from the Saxons, but now the brunet was leaning his back weakly against Arthur's chest, his lanky figure shaking. When Arthur moved a bit to gain a better position to navigate the horse, he bit back a gasp when he found out Merlin had lost a lot of blood, some of which were already seeping to Arthur's chainmail.

"Arthur," he wheezed, his head lolling like a dead scarecrow on Arthur's left shoulder. It started to drizzle lightly, and the brunet was shaking harder.

He tightened his hold of Merlin, willing his voice not to shake as well as he told him, "hang on there."

A sound of galloping horse coming from behind them shook Arthur from his panic. Arthur slowed his horse down, waiting for his scouts to reach them. He had sent two of his men as scouts to check back their path, in case the Saxons were still upon them.

As soon as he had been told that the Saxons had lost track of them, Arthur was already giving commands to his men. "Halt! We rest here to clean our wounds."

After telling them that they would not be stopping for more than a few minutes, at least half of his men were already climbing down their horses, ripping their clothes to bandage their wounds. Arthur dismounted his horse slowly, careful not to let Merlin fall. He wasn't even sure Merlin was still conscious. When he was already on the ground, Arthur gently set Merlin down.

After sitting him against a tree, Arthur's voice shook when he took off Merlin's skin jacket and found a great portion of his red shirt was already soaked with blood from the wound. "Oh, dear God."

"Must keep moving," Merlin managed to lisp weakly, surprising the blonde. "Saxons– behind us."

"They're long gone. Now, don't move, I need to see the wound," Arthur said.

It was impressive how Merlin still managed to be a pain in the neck and refuse to do as he was told. Squirming, the lankier man brought out his shaky hands to brush Arthur off as the latter tried to rip open his shirt to see the wound. "No– don't," he pleaded.

"Merlin, for once, don't make this difficult," Arthur cut, almost exasperated.

The brunet still put a bit of fight for several times, but after a moment, his strength waned out and Arthur could finally sit him sideway and rip his shirt open, revealing the ugly wound. Blood was still seeping slowly out of the wound, flowing down the brunet's back. It was high enough on his back that Arthur was sure it must have missed his lungs, and it looked like his shoulder blade was left unscathed too, but it looked like it still nicked a big blood vessel that he was losing a lot more of blood than he should have.

Arthur took out his water skin, pulling the stopper off with his teeth, and pour water on Merlin's wound to clean it before ripping a portion of cloth off his cape to make a bandage. The brunet hadn't stopped shivering, though; a portion of the poison had already entered his body, there was nothing he could do but to take him as fast as they could to Gaius.

When he was finished with the wound, Arthur sighed shakily. He didn't know anything about poison, or human body for that matter; Merlin had always been the one who helped him in situations like this. It didn't happen often, but with Merlin being comatose like that, Arthur had never felt so helpless.

He was holding Merlin and was about to rest him against the tree once more, intending to talk to his knights for a moment to discuss the safest and fastest way to Camelot, when the ripped flap of his shirt fell down. Arthur thought it was another wound need dressing, there were other superficial bruises and scratches too on his chest, when he realized the dark splotches on Merlin's sternum weren't blood. It was mostly covered in dried blood, but he was sure he wasn't imagining it when he thought they said 'two sides'.

Arthur looked away, embarrassed. It wasn't proper to look at someone else's Soulpoetry. And so, shaking his head to will his brain to forget what he just saw, Arthur took Merlin's jacket and gently draped it over the latter's chest.

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A/N: Alright, that's the end of chapter three! Sooo, what do you guys think? *gives you all my ridiculous impersonation of Merlin's adorable smile* Here's the first Soulpoetry revelation! Oops, did I say first? Of course I didn't, why would I imply there will be a second Soulpoetry revelation? Ahahahahah, okay I'll stop talking gibberish now XD. Thank you for those who voted and commented! It always makes my day to see your notifications! *sends virtual hugs and free chocolate cookies*

Reviews and constructive criticism are all welcomed! :D